In Darkness Bound
by Undying Sleep
Summary: What led Sauron to abandon hope for redemption and pardon when Angband fell to the Army of the West?


_466, First Age of the Sun_

Mairon walked through the halls of Angband. He was shivering, not from the cold of the halls, but from fear. And he hated himself for it. He was the Lieutenant of Morgoth, he couldn't show fear, or any other emotion for that matter. But Mairon was afraid, afraid of his master. He had not only failed to capture that damned she-elf, but he had also let the Mortal escape. _Fool,_ he thought. _You underestimated the hound. And now you have to pay for it._

The door to Morgoth's throneroom was large and heavy, made from pure iron. Orcs frequently oiled it's hinges, otherwise it would creak with every movement. Mairon had never loved Angband, even when Morgoth was imprisoned in Aman, still known as Melkor, he had never loved it. Tol Gaurhoth instead almost felt like home, like Almaren had. _Don't get all sentimental, Almaren is gone. All that remains is Angband. You better start liking it here._ Morgoth might as well take Gaurhoth from him, now that he had seen how useless Mairon was. _He'll most likely give it to Gothmog._ He couldn't stand the tought of Gothmog sitting on his throne.

The door had now opened fully and Mairon walked to the gloom of the throneroom. Only light came from the Silmarils on his master's crown. But now it seemed diminished somehow. Mairon almost let himself shiver at the mere presence of his master, it was even colder than before.

"Ah, Mairon. How good of you to grace us with your presence." Morgoth's voice was soft, a bad sign.

"Master, what has happened?" Mairon's curiousity had awoken, and he wanted to know what had taken place while he was away.

"That damn elf and her little mortal pet happened! They stole one of _my_ Silmarils." His master growled. "And I have received word that you failed to capture them."

Mairon's face twitched, but he quickly suppressed it. "Do you find this amusing _Sauron_?" Morgoth rose to his full height, he was like a black mountain that towered over the Maia. Mairon cowered under his glare, wishing to be somewhere else.

"Now that I think of this, it was your fault that they succeeded." Morgoth's voice was soft again, and he grinned. "You know what failure means, don't you Sauron?"

Mairon took a deep breath, closed his fiery eyes and waited for pain to come. It didn't.

"Get on your knees, failure." Morgoth's soft voice purred from the darkness. He tossed a knife at Mairon's feet. "You may use this to cut your hair."

Mairon's hair was his pride. It was long and black and silky, it was everything he was. "Do it, now!" Mairon picked up the knife and raised it to his neck and started to saw of his hair. The knife was dull and he had to tear his hair off. Morgoth sat on his throne again, his grin widening at the gasps of pain.

When Mairon had finished he rose to his feet again and walked around Mairon. He lifted Mairon up, all the time whispering: "You know you deserve this. It will make you stronger."

Suddenly Morgoth's hand closed against the Maia's wrist and broke it. Mairon barely managed not to scream. Next his arm's bone snapped. This time Mairon screamed and Morgoth laughed.

"You know, for a maia, your ability to tolerate pain is weak." This was followed by a soft thump, Mairon had fallen to his knees. Morgoth grinned again, and brought a whip from behind his back. It was long and full of barbs. Mairon had seen such whips used against prisoners.

 _Crack_ , the whip's barbs buried themselves to Mairon's back. Again and again and again. Mairon lost the count of time. All he could do was stand on his knees and scream. It was what Morgoth cherised, to be able to cause pain to others.

When the strikes stopped Mairon was left whimpering. His back was torn and a puddle of blood grew under him.

"Gothmog, you can do with him as you wish. But leave him alive, he is still useful to me." Mairon shuddered, Gothmog had always hated him, even when they had not yet fallen to Morgoth.

Gothmog, who had recently entered the room grinned like a mad man. _He is one though._ Mairon thought bitterly. Gothmog grabbed him by his foot. His hand burned against Mairon's leg. Gothmog turned around and started dragging Mairon down the hall. Down and down they went, down into the dungeons of Angband, where slaves unfortunate enough to displease their masters were kept and tortured.

He was dragged to a small chamber, it's walls were adorned with various torture devices. On one wall threre were a pair of chains. Gothmog dragged the poor Maia near it and clicked the chackles around his wrists.

"You know what I want, don't you _Sauron?"_ Mairon shuddered. _He wants to hear me scream, I will not give him that pleasure._

Gothmog started with Mairon's leg, first he broke his ankle, and from there he moved on. Before long, Mairon was almost unconscious. When Gothmog had finished, Mairon laid on the floor, a small puddle of blood growing under him.

The door opened, it's hinges creaking, and Morgoth entered the chamber. He crouched next to Mairon and raised him from his now short hair.

"You see Mairon, with pain you grow stronger. Each cut and scab increases your strength. I am doing this for you." He whispered, stroking Mairon's hair. "Remember little one, you are forever bound to darkness. The Valar do not care for those who betray or oppose them. Look what they did with the Noldor. No Mairon, there is no forgiveness for you."

He stood, "Get out. And when you have healed yourself, come to me. I have a task for you."

Mairon scrambled from the room and staggered through the dungeons, up the stairs and in to his chambers.

* * *

 _587, First Age of the Sun_

Mairon walked through the camp of the Army of West, ignoring all the mutterings and suspicious glares. _You are forever bound to darkness. There is no forgiveness for you,_ Morgoth's words echoed in his ears. Soon tents gave way to a small clearing, in the middle of the clearing stood Eönwë, Herald of Manwë.

Eönwë glanced up and his eyes widened as he met Mairon's. "Have you come to surrender, Sauron Gorthaur?" Mairon winced inwardly at the name. He didn't know why he couldn't stand the name, afterall it was well deserved.

"Yes". One word, it was all that was needed, Eönwë's eyes hardened slightly.

"I do not have the authority to grant you pardon, you will have to come to Valinor, where you will stand judgement at Máhanaxar, in front of the Valar". Mairon bowed in front of the Herald.

"You are not to leave the camp, if you do, we will hunt you down and throw you into the Void without trial." Mairon didn't say anything. Eönwë looked in Mairon's eyes again, as if searching for something, but weakened as he was, Mairon's mental shields held. After a few minutes Eönwë nodded to two maiar guards standing on either side of him, clad in mail and bearing sword on their belts. "Take him to a empty tent, he may move freely in the camp, you need not guard him. He knows what happens if he leaves".

Evening came fast. Left alone, Mairon had time to get his mind in order. He wondered if he should confine his fears to Eönwë, but in the end scrapped the idea. Eönwë would tell his masters, which would lead them to delve into his mind in search of answers. No he couldn't tell anyone.

Mairon stood from the bunk he was given and wandered out of the tent. He walked through the camp slowly, without attracting attention. When he reached the edge of the camp he broke into a run. When he reached forest he turned around, tears welling in his eyes. _You are forever bound in darkness,_ Morgoth had said, it was true. He gazed into West, then he turned around, never looking back.


End file.
